Unfortunate
by Ravenclaw Alchemist
Summary: REMAKE. April Grey moves to Tokyo after her father buys out the Rukinia hospital chain. And, naturally, she meets the son of the competition; the charming, gorgeous, and brilliant Kyoya Ootori, who has her ensnared from their first meeting . But in a world of politics, half-truths, and fortunes, is gambling on the off-chance that he cares about her worth what she has to lose? K/OC


**Yo.**

**So, I originally wrote this story when I was 12 and a worse writer than I am currently, and recently remembered that it existed. Thus, I decided to rewrite it, so that I wouldn't have to do it in Author Hell. So, if you read the original, I'm going to change write a few things plot wise. In fact, I'm going to change a lot of things plot wise.**

** So, whether you're reading it for the first time or read the original, I welcome you to the new and improved Fortunate!**

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**Chapter One~**

**Unfortunate Beginnings**

* * *

April Grey was never sure if she actually believed in luck.

She was, after all, a girl of numbers, where everything was logical and sound. There was no luck in an equation; there was a formula into which each number fit to solve for a reasonable answer. It was never random, never signifying anything deeper than a set of rigid laws that she, on most degrees, knew governed the universe.

But then, there were the times where her unquestionable laws had to be questioned.

She first began wondering when she was very young, a girl of only eight. Her father had invested in a few stocks with his dwindling assets, right after his wife and her mother had abandoned them, and just as suddenly as his purchase went through, the stocks took off. It seemed to happen with every stock he invested in; a few weeks later, he would make an impossibly gross profit off of an almost unknown company, withdraw his earned money, invest again, and watch his bank account grow. She couldn't believe how odd it was, even as just a child. It defied all reason, laws of likelihood, and common sense, but somehow, it had happened.

She reasoned that sometime, her father would hit a ceiling somewhere and plummet back into the middle-class society they had sprouted from. But that didn't happen either. As soon as her goofball, good-humored father lost a few thousand on a silly investment, he suddenly got slightly more business-wise and invested in companies in a different sense; buying them out completely. Though she tried to be a responsible daughter and remind her father he knew nothing about businesses, not to mention running them, he laughed at her.

"It's fine, hun. It's like those guys that buy the football teams or something; I don't run it, I hire other people to do that," he reassured her, rubbing her head and accidentally pulling her hair out of its pigtailed braids. She predicted that the idea would crash in a month.

But somehow, yet again, it didn't.

When she was twelve, and her father had somehow risen to the highest tier of the social classes, she was fairly sure that luck didn't exist. Though her father would always reference how 'lucky he was' to be dating a beautiful woman no less than fifteen years older than her, she knew that it was just math. A bachelor added to piles of money would always equal pretty young gold diggers hungry for a piece of the action. But her father was so sure of his good fortune and happiness that a part of her remained questioning if the man was truly lucky. And what with the way he beamed on his wedding night to her new stepmother, Crystie, she felt her entire established world order fracture slightly along the seams. She repaired her faith in reason slowly, and soon enough, she had reverted to the old way of thinking to which she clung.

Four years later, she would question it again, even more thoroughly and deeply than the small incursions before. Four years later, her entire sense of the workings of the universe would shatter and crumble to dust around her. Four years later, she would find herself unable to recognize the truth that she had come to accept from the reality she had drawn up. And five years later, she realized that she didn't care too much.

And to think, it all started with an average Tuesday night.

* * *

"What?" she asked, thinking her ears had deceived her. Her knife was frozen as she sliced open a piece of prime steak along a thin and almost invisible fault line. She stared across the round table at her stepmother and father, both of them looking back at her in surprise.

"I said that we're moving to Japan!" her father seemed too joyful at the prospect to even consider that his daughter wouldn't be pleased with it. "I bought out this gigantic hospital chain down there, Rukinia Medical Association. It'll pull in more than all of the others combined, and I want to be down there so I can be closer to the main offices."

She had no words for the situation. April was never a girl who liked change. She found herself in the constants of math and economics, the latter being her true calling. Yet, as she looked at her father's fading grin and her stepmother's supporting hand on his, she felt her shock twisting into something slightly more confrontational.

"No," she replied simply.

"It's already been decided, sweetie," Crystie said, what appeared to be true understanding in her clear, blue eyes.

"_I_ have taken part in no decision," she muttered, a bite to her normally placid voice. "And I want to stay in Toronto."

"April, it isn't that type of thing," her father said with a light sigh. "I know that you like it here, but it won't be that much of a change in scenery."

"It's across the Pacific, with a totally different sort of social class structure, and has a completely different culture."

"You'll survive," her father swore, swiping his fingers across his hear in an 'X' childishly. "I promise you'll like it."

A few minutes passed in silence, April trying to stare down her father. He had none of it, though, and remained firm in his declaration while returning her glare with a gaze.

"When do we leave?" she asked after the silence had reached its breaking point, hoping to be able to convince her father otherwise in the next few weeks.

He gave a nervous, slightly embarrassed cough before replying. "Actually, hun, we've had this planned out for a while. We didn't want to tell you because we thought it'd be a nice surprise-"

"Dad, when do we leave?" she asked, her eyes widening and betraying her otherwise calm front.

"Two days," the man said, not meeting his daughter's eyes. "Everything's been planned for months."

For the second time that evening, April found herself speechless. The knife she had been holding clattered against the plate. She was just as surprised at her father pulling such an intelligent scheme as she was offended and angry.

"Two days?" she repeated, her voice dry. Though her father had moved up a hundredfold on the social ladder, they still lived in the same flat that she had been raised in. The place that held the majority of her old memories of life before money came into it – not that she _wasn't_ a fan of the copious amount of wealth in her family – and she wanted to preserve those times.

"It'll be fine," her father insisted, his hazel eyes meeting her own of the same shade. "I swear."

She wasn't convinced.

* * *

_I wish private jets were more practical_, April thought to herself as she rubbed a crick out of her neck on the commercial plane. _Maybe then I could justify asking Dad to buy one._

She had been on the commercial jet for all-too-long, and knew that she wouldn't be getting off of it any time soon. She had been running through finances on her sleek Pineapple laptop for hours, and the numbers had started to blur together with familiarity. She let out a yawn before continuing to scroll downwards, searching her father's business emails as she always did for anything valuable to keep in mind.

"Hey, hun," he called from the row behind her, stifling a yaw directly in her ear as he leaned forward. "I got an email from Rukinia's director, a fellow named Oshiro, the other day. Something about another company or similar stuff. Mind checking it out, maybe telling me what he means?"

"Dad," she said, turning around to face him. "It's your damned business. Literally."

"Language," he corrected, his face turning serious for a brief second before returning to his average state. "And I'm no good with all of the financial speak. You'd be able to tell me what the man's actually trying to say."

"I'll do my best," she muttered. She didn't even want to be going to the new country, and now she was helping the move along? No, she reasoned, she needed to help her father with this. Otherwise the damage would be collateral. She opened the email curiously, hoping for something interesting.

_Mr. Grey,_ the email began, and April could almost hear a gruff voice speaking it_. I believe you should be aware of the situation with the company. Though Rukinia has successfully managed to exceed 94% of its quarterly goals, the majority being surpassed by a profit margin of 5.34%, I feel it my duty to alert you to a dangerous threat. Ootori Medical Corporation has long opposed ours, and is consistently pulling ahead of us in both profit and facilities. As of now, they own a striking 24% of all medical facilities in Tokyo and 14% of medical facilities throughout Japan. Rukinia, to counter, has approximately 17% of all medical facilities in Tokyo and 10% in all of Japan. Their pursuit of a complete monopoly might pose problems in the future. Also, in lieu of your previous question during our conversation last week, I feel that it might be useful to mention that Yoshio Ootori, the head of the Corporation, has three sons. 17, 23, and 25. Might be interested._

_ Reply as soon as you can,_

_ Etokė Oshiro_

"He's trying to tell you that there's another company that might become hostile in the same field as yours," she said plainly, committing the name Ootori to memory. "And something suspiciously cryptic about a man named Ootori having three sons of varying ages, a bit older than me."

"Oh, good," her father replied through a yawn. "I wanted to make sure that I could offer to take his kids out for a drink legally."

"Mm," April hummed softly as she exited out of the inbox and made a mental not to do a slight bit of research on the Ootori's. "Good plan."

"'M full of 'em," he said groggily. His sleepiness seemed to wear off onto her, and she felt her eyelids begin to droop. She could research and plan tomorrow.

She was definitely wrong.

When she awoke, she was stretched out in the back seat of a stretched limo, her stepmother and her father a few seats away, talking in hushed voices. Before she could key into what they were saying, though, the woman tugged on the man's sleeve and gave a pointed look in the girl's direction. April immediately decided not to question the two, and instead pretended that she heard nothing.

"Where're we?" she asked, her voice slurring slightly.

"Here!" her stepmother grinned, the limo pulling to a stop outside a set of townhouse-like duplexes. As flakes of mid-spring snow swirled around the buildings, a few of their new neighbors stared at the limo, April silently cursing her stepmother's love of making an entrance.

"It's laid out just like our old place, so that " her father explained from the other side of the limo as April looked up and saw a girl on the second floor, looking to be around her age, and glaring down at the limo and seeming overtly annoyed by its presence. She briefly wondered why before the door was pulled open by their chauffer, a man by a name that she couldn't quite remember. As she slid out of the limousine she glanced up towards the other girl again, who was now looking relieved as she met the heiress's hazel eyes. April stowed the memory as a settle curiosity in the back of her mind before following her parents up to their new apartment on the second floor.

"What do you think of the building, hun?" Crystie asked.

"It's… cute," she conceded after a second of hesitation. Her father opened up the door, to reveal a mess of boxes being unpacked by a full team of workers.

"They should be all done soon," he said quickly as they began assembling the furniture. "And there's a cocktail party in an hour or two down at one of my new coworker's houses; the Oshiro fellow. Do you want to come?"

"Mm-mmm," she hummed in dissent, falling both tired and annoyed onto the newly assembled couch. "We just moved in. I need to acclimate. Jetlag. Tired."

"If you say so, dear," her stepmother replied, not looking like she quite understood her stepdaughter. She turned to a worker and asked, "Is the master bedroom set up yet?"

"Yes, Grey-sama, right this way," the man said, gesturing to a small hallway. "Your daughter's room is next to the kitchen."

April glanced around the room, crowded with boxes, and was able to make out a different door that was almost obscured by the containers. She maneuvered around the piles and managed to fall through the door. Her room had been set up completely, resembling her old one in Toronto almost perfectly. Her large bed was pushed up against the wall next to the door, as away from the rest of the apartment as possible. Near the window, which looked out over the city, she had her dresser and a short bookshelf. The other wall was bare, more for a lack of personal belongings than the want for an open environment.

As she was about to fall backwards on the bed, she heard someone begin talking.

"No, semp-" a female voice began, but was cut off quickly. It was slightly muffled, but sounded very close.

"Hello?" April asked, but didn't receive a response.

"I'm fine; I'm not going to freeze. We have a heater, and it's just a bit of snow-" the voice continued, April assuming that it was from the other side of her wall, which she shared with her new neighbors. This time, she could almost hear a frantic voice on the other side of the wall, but so quiet that she decided it had to be on a phone.

"Calm down, Sempai." The girl on the line was getting frustrated, as clear from her tone. April wanted to mention that she could hear the conversation, to ease the feeling that she was intruding on something, but she held her tongue. She might as well see how it played out. "I don't need to come over! I'm fine!"

A lengthy pause, with a high-pitched sound in the background.

The voice began talking again, this time seeming fed up with whoever it was addressing. "This _is_ my break, Sempai, and I would appreciate if you'd stop bugging me! I'll see you in April!"

April sighed as an audible beep sailed through her ears. She hated being named after a month, and not even that good of a month at that. Well, as her father said, it was a family tradition, and family traditions were very important things.

In her opinion, that was a worse load of bullshit than moving after a two day notice.

She leaned back on her bed and allowed her eyes to flicker closed. Her hand reached out blindly for her laptop or her pinePod, not finding either. She preferred to fall asleep listening to music, but she was far too tired to care for long. And suddenly the calm blackness of sleep was upon her, the sun fading into the horizon behind her curtains.

* * *

Kyoya relaxed in the darkness of his bedroom, the only source of light coming from his laptop. His eyes skimmed over numbers and faces unbarred, his glasses folded neatly on his nightstand. It was his favorite time of night.

His gaze fell upon a piece of news from one of the many sites he was scanning, mainly because of the title's mention of his father's main competitor, Rukinia Medical. He opened the link casually and was greeted by an unexpected title;

_New Owners of Rukinia Medical Move to Tokyo!_

Underneath the blaring text was a photo of a family of three, obvious from their stance. It showed a prematurely bald man with an earnestly jovial grin, his eyes almost shut and his dimples large. The woman draped around him was bottle blonde, cherry lips parted slightly, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. The third member of the small clan had her father's oval face and hawkish nose, though slightly more feminine, with long caramel hair in a no-nonsense ponytail and hazel eyes. The smile on her face was pleasant, but calculated, Kyoya noted. She was taking a measure for public opinion, though she was clearly not a fan of having her photograph taken. His eyes darted to the caption and then to the rest of the article.

_Augustus Grey, 45, with his wife Crystie, 29, and daughter April, 16_

_..._

_After buying out the Rukinia Medical Association, Canadian investor and entrepreneur _

_Augustus Grey has recently moved into the greater Tokyo area, near the Bunkyo district._

_The young billionaire has purchased a large number of multi-million dollar corporations all_

_around the world, but decided to move to Japan, as he said to our correspondents, "to be_

_closer to what might be [his] best investment yet". His wife, Crystal, said in an exclusive-_

Kyoya skimmed over the next few passages, annoyed with the lack of information that he could use – even though he stored quite a few little tidbits away for future reference – until he saw a small section about the girl.

_April Grey is set to enlist in second year at a private school this coming term, and though there have_

_been no definitive statements on the matter, it is the general assumption that she is going to be_

_attending either Lobelia Girl's Academy or Ouran Academy, both prestigious schools for the wealthy._

Within a minute, he had another five tabs open on his browser, each with a different piece on the girl or her father. He allowed himself a small smirk as he worked, remembering the valuable facts he found. Rukinia was the only thing standing between the Ootori Group and a monopoly.

And, if he played his cards right with the girl, it would be dead within five years.

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